Conversation with a Liberal
Having a perfect ownership of truth
They lay a trap for me.
Wrong answers given, the jaws snap shut,
I’m cast from purity.
Behind square bars I rattle my cage,
My character is lost,
I bear my sin of repugnancy
And all that that will cost.
They seized the truth before I came and cornered
Righteousness.
They sit on high-built platforms, fingers raised,
Demanding I confess.
Pretence of interest in my words,
A lure to lead me on.
A means to castigate my thoughts,
And confirm them on their throne.
Debate lies dead beneath their dais,
Stretched out in bloodless hue,
And they prevail impregnable,
Corralling all that’s true.
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